


Capsize This Time

by BGB



Series: Exceedingly Awkward and Incredibly Dense [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Awkwardness, Everyone is Crazy, Flirting, M/M, More like Mid-Slash, Pre-Slash, Team Bonding, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 00:27:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BGB/pseuds/BGB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Tony have finally come to an agreement - they're definitely interested in flirting with each other. Like, they practically shook hands on it. Unfortunately, Steve has no idea where to start. Do people even like flowers anymore?</p>
<p>Good thing that Steve lives with a bunch of weird, socially bizarre, occasionally amoral but outrageously good-hearted superheroes to help him construct the ultimate wooing plan. Otherwise, this could all go really, really.....</p>
<p>...hmm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Russian Roulette is a Really Stupid Game to Play

**Author's Note:**

> Oh God. Here we go again. 
> 
> Hi again!! Okay, hopefully some of you who enjoyed **Ride It Out, Wait It Out** are still around and haven't all defected over to Steve/Natasha (oops), because this here appears to be a sequel. Heck! I do have two disclaimers, though:
> 
> 1\. I won't be updating this with the frequency of the last fic, because updating almost every day kind of made me crazy (though it'll still be a couple times a week), and 
> 
> 2\. THE RATING IS FOR LATER. IT WILL HAPPEN THOUGH, I PROMISE. I do not have a similar promise as to quality of said rating-worthy scene, but it'll happen.
> 
> Again, I'm assuming this will be about eight parts, of which I've got five written, but we'll see how this goes - we all know my judgment is terrible (OBVIOUSLY).

It was a surprisingly calm night at Stark Tower. 

What this meant, of course, was that nothing had exploded or melted or dissolved or mutated or developed unintended sentience for well over the past six hours. This was practically a record, especially when one considered that there were several people of noteworthy merit habitating in the tower, all of whom held a penchant for destruction (and for attracting over-dramatic villains who liked to blow things up for fun). A night without something catching on fire, either intentionally or unintentionally, was generally a cause for celebration among the slightly off group known as The Avengers. But weeks of living together had shown them all to be surprisingly adaptable, smoothly fitting into one another's lives and learning not only how to get along, but how not to infringe on each other's personal space or get overly involved in private matters unless if a fire extinguisher was actively required.

Sort of. Mostly. If one didn't count the overwhelming tendency for the group of six people to _completely infringe on each other's personal space or get overly involved in private matters_.

"So, you and Stark, huh?" Natasha Romanov asked mildly, as if she hadn't asked it about 47 times since she'd wandered into Steve Rogers' bedroom earlier that evening in search of a distraction from Clint Barton and Thor's never ending video game tournaments. These tournaments generally spanned across every rec room in the Tower during the course of "Gaming Eves", as Thor called them, and if either man ever actually paid attention to the swear jar that Bruce Banner had set out after the first competition, Bruce would be the richest man in the universe. Mario Cart got that violent. 

Steve, who had decided to spend the evening hiding out in his room about five seconds after Thor's first bellow, would have protested the constant repetition if it wasn't for the fact that Natasha, super spy assassin ninja warrior extraordinaire, had been carding her fingers through his hair for nearly an hour. Being as observant as she was sneaky, it hadn't taken Natasha long into their cohabitation to determine that the quickest way to get Steve to do anything was through affectionate physical contact; being touch deprived and on ice for 70 years, not to mention his extreme shyness and tendency towards illness pre-serum, hadn't exactly helped him build up a resistance to gentle, pleasant touches.

He tried not to think about the other things she'd probably cataloged on him since they'd moved into the same building. Very likely, the list included _everything_. 

"Steve," she prompted again, jostling him where he sat on the floor below her perch on the edge of his bed. "You. Stark. Details."

"Mmph," Steve replied, tilting his head forward to allow her better access to his neck.

Obligingly, Natasha trailed her nails up and down the skin there, making him shiver with delight. "C'mon, Steve. It's been two weeks since you guys made your bizarre pact thing. Two weeks. Go on a damn date already."

Steve tilted his head back again to blink up at her blearily. "It's not like we weren't busy or anything," he told her, irritated they had to run through this again. "I mean, those purple exploding multiplying rabbit things took forever to clean off the streets."

Natasha grunted, digging into the sides of Steve's neck with her thumbs, making him moan and thump his chin against his chest. "Please stop talking about those goddamn rabbits," she muttered. The Avengers still weren't entirely certain where they had come from. Thor had suspected Loki, except that Loki was still chained up in Asgard somewhere, Clint had made endless jokes that he apparently had learned from a python (what?), and Tony had kept muttering something about hammers. The man had been talking too fast when he went through that particular theory for Steve to really keep up, so he hadn't tried. All he knew was that, at first, the purple rabbit things had been kind of cute.

Then three of them had blown themselves up all over his costume. He still hadn't managed to get all the goo off.

"Anyway," Steve said, wriggling forwards to expose more of his broad back to Natasha, crossing his legs beneath him, "I kind of... well. I sort of thought Tony would make the first move."

Natasha's nails as they scratched down his back were light and gentle, but her sigh was ridiculously heavy. "Okay, no, Steve. The man had to clarify directly with you that what you were both engaging in was, indeed, flirting."

Steve squirmed a little when Natasha strayed too close to his sides, but unlike Clint, she backed off quickly, trailing up and down his spine, up and down and up and down. "Hmmmm. Well, okay, yeah, but so did I."

Natasha stroked more firmly. "That's because you're an idiot, but at least you have an excuse."

He grunted. "Okay," he said, lulled into a slightly accelerated mode of acceptance via her fingertips. "So what should I do?"

The stroking of his back abruptly ceased, and Steve kind of felt like whining. There was a completely silent pause, and then Natasha gripped his shoulders firmly, making him jump. "Just to be clear," she said slowly, leaning forward, "did you just ask me for dating advice?"

"Um," Steve said, twisting at the waist to look up at her. "Yes?"

She stared at him, and Steve stared back. For as much time as Steve spent with Natasha, sometimes it felt like he didn't really know her at all. He was aware that she kept a lot to herself out of necessity (which, okay, he may have gone to ask Clint if there was anything that he should stay away from when talking with her, and Clint had been kind enough to give Steve a handwritten list that covered about three pages front and back, most of which could have been narrowed down to CHILDHOOD and HER PAST). But then there were times like this, times when she seemed like she wanted to tell him something, when something seemed to be right on the tip of her tongue. But because Steve failed to ask the right questions, she just... let it go. 

He hated it every time.

"Is that okay?" he asked, turning further so he could face her fully. 

She looked down at him, tucking a loose strand of red hair behind her ear from where it had escaped the plastic band she'd tied it all back with. "I... no, that's... it's fine. It's fine, Steve."

He continued to look up at her, hoping he hadn't done something wrong, or hadn't been rude, or been pushing in where it wasn't any of his business. She arched an eyebrow at him, and Steve may - just may - have jutted out his lower lip the tiniest bit.

Natasha laughed. "Oh my God, Steve. Get up here. I can't stand it when you make that face at me, and sitting on the ground gazing up at me with giant puppy eyes doesn't make it any better."

Steve grinned. "Is it something likely to grant me bargaining power next movie night?"

She rolled her eyes, untucking one socked foot from beneath herself so she could kick him in the chest. "No. If I have to watch _Roman Holiday_ one more time, I will punch you in the face repeatedly until you actually bleed."

Well, if that wasn't an excuse to pout like a child, he didn't know what was. "I thought you liked Gregory Peck too."

Natasha kicked him in the shoulder that time. "Yes, I do, Steve. But Gregory Peck was in more than one movie."

"But I _like_ that movie."

She kicked him again. He grabbed her in retaliation, pulling her down to the floor where the two of them wrestled around for a minute, Steve half-assing his strength while Natasha half-assed her agility. Eventually she elbowed him hard in the gut, knocking him over onto his side, and she rolled to the soft carpet beside him, stretching out. They lay there for awhile, neither of them really catching their breath (a super solider and an assassin - they'd suck at their jobs if they needed to catch their breath after _that_ ) before Natasha finally broke the silence.

"I've never actually been on a date," she said quietly, twisting her fingers together over her stomach. "Not really."

Steve tilted her head to look at her. "Really? So I get made fun of all the time for nothing?"

She snorted. "No, you get made fun of because you're an idiot. And I've been on _dates_ , but... usually for a mission, or inspired by a mission, or leading up to a potential mission, or..." She trailed off, fingertips twisting again in a deliberate tell of her discomfort with the topic. "Just none that really meant something, or started somewhere... well, somewhere kind of sweet."

"You're calling me sweet," Steve deadpanned, calm despite the way his stomach was doing backflips at Natasha's confidences. "I should be offended, right? That's not a good thing anymore for a dame to call a fella 'sweet'."

Natasha didn't outright laugh very often, but apparently that was enough. "Oh God, Steve," she managed between what she'd kill him for if he called them giggles. "You're disgusting. I don't know what Stark sees in you, because you're a complete twit."

Steve felt his previous good humor dim a little. "I don't know either," he admitted. "That's the problem. I have no idea why someone like Tony would be interested in someone like me. I mean, I don't get things half the time, I'm slow on the uptake on a lot of this stuff -"

"Says the guy who turned Clint's ringtone into "Man For All Seasons" last week," Natasha scoffed.

"- and just... well. He's Tony. And I'm... yeah. I'm just me."

Natasha rolled over onto her stomach, peering at him. "And that's all you need to be, Steve," she said, voice firm. "That's all you'll ever need to be, and that's why we all..." She cleared her throat. "That's why we're all fond of you."

Steve tilted his head to look at her sideways and grinned. "Were you about to tell me you love me?"

"No," she replied, "because you're an idiot. Look, Steve. Do what you would have done had you been courting back in the '40s, okay? Don't try to update yourself, don't try to be something or someone you're not. What would you have done back then on a date?"

"Uh," Steve said, "thrown up on myself and fainted at the merest possibility of actually having a date."

Natasha thumped her head on the floor. Steve laughed, reaching over to shove at her, making vain attempts to break through the Black Widow Possum game she occasionally affected when she considered people too stupid for words, but the whole time he was running through various scenarios in his head. Okay. Traditional courtship. He could do that. Steve could do that. 

"Yes you can," Natasha replied. "But you should start by not talking to yourself out loud."

Steve could do that too.


	2. Sometimes sweet is sweet. Sort of. And then everything gets covered in gooey stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone around this joint is awesome. I'm just sayin'.

Steve was pacing. He knew he was pacing, it wasn't like he was in denial of his pacing, but he just could not make himself stop doing it. He'd been pacing by himself in the middle of the hallway just beyond the view of the windows of Tony's lab for - Steve glanced at his watch - about an hour now, and it seemed unlikely that he was going to stop anytime soon.

He was pretty sure that this fit the definition of being a "creepy stalker", as he'd heard Darcy yell into the vents that one time Clint had come visit Jane and friends with Steve and Thor and decided that the best way to get to know everyone was follow them around via the air ducts, but Steve was nervous. And so, he paced.

He'd given Natasha's words from the night before a great deal of thought, admittedly at the expense of sleeping, and came to the conclusion that she'd been right on many, many levels (what a surprise). Steve really had been silly for sitting around and waiting for Tony to come to _him_ , waiting for _Tony_ to make the first move, because Steve had just assumed that whatever he could come up with to impress Tony first would never be good enough. What could Steve know about flirting (he still liked "wooing" better, but even Bruce had needed to force back laughter when he heard Steve say the word, so he'd given up) in the face of all that Tony Stark -

_Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist_

\- had experienced and seen and done himself? 

But really, Steve had thought as he'd remained sprawled out on his carpet long after Natasha had gone back to her own room, maybe that really did give Steve an advantage. From what he'd seen of 21st century dating practices through Thor (okay, not the best idea) or any of those romantic comedies that Darcy occasionally tried to get him to watch (out of what seemed to be a very twisted sense of humor), dating was more of a quick pickup these days. No romancing, no cheesy gestures meant to make the other person smile, nothing like that. It was all about fast-pace and immediate gratification, as if the people dating were running out of time and needed to get to the good stuff so badly that they forgot how sweet buildup could be, or the meanings that little gestures can take on to let a person know you care. Modern love needed to take a page from old school romance.

And that was something Steve knew like the back of his hand.

With that thought firmly planted in his mind, Steve forced himself to stop pacing, take a deep breath, and turn the hell around.

And then he practically ran over Tony.

"Oh!" Steve exclaimed, shoving his left hand quickly behind his back in the worst display of casual secrecy in the world. "Hi!"

Tony, who apparently hadn't been expecting to walk into anyone the second he emerged from his lab, jumped about fifteen feet in the air.

"Jesus Christ, Steve! Give a guy some warning!" Tony protested, clutching dramatically at the arc reactor through his black tank top. "This thing isn't built for super soldier shocks!"

Steve gave him a look, trying not to get distracted by the sight of Tony's arms, or Tony's hair, or Tony's... well. "Tony, you spend about 60% of your time throwing yourself off of buildings."

"While in my suit," Tony corrected him, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Steve an obvious once over. When his brown eyes caught on the hand still tucked behind Steve's back, they narrowed. "What are you doing here, anyway? And what's behind your back?"

Well, Steve thought, here goes nothing. "Um, well, I just... I woke up this morning and decided that I was going for a walk, you see. Like, outside. In the outdoors."

"That's a great place for a walk," Tony cut in, something that looked like a smile twitching at his lips. "Outside is the most outdoorsy place you can go."

Steve could actually feel his cheeks pinking (not that the growing grin on Tony's face didn't a) give it away all on its own, and b) make him blush harder). "Yeah, that's... that was what I thought... um, anyway, so I was walking past a park and it was really nice outside so I decided to go in and -"

"Okay, this story is taking too long," Tony declared, stepping forward directly into Steve's space. "Give it up, Rogers."

"Wha - hey! I'm not done with my story!" Steve may or may not have _yelped_ as Tony started grappling with Steve's arm, pulling on the elbow in an attempt to tug it around. Normally, it wouldn't have even been a match, but Steve was already nervous, and he hadn't been expecting Tony to get so _close_ , and those were Tony's _fingers_ wrapping around his arm, and okay, so Steve was a little bit of a sap when, blushingly, he gave up the fight and let Tony pull his arm around and up between them, pressed between both of their chests.

Steve held his breath as Tony stared down, unmoving, apparently completely thrown by the sight of the little red rose's stem clutched firmly in Steve's fist.

"That's... you have a flower," Tony said, frowning. "Why have you got a flower?"

Steve swallowed. "W-well, like I was trying to tell you before, there were these kids selling roses at the park, and so I thought that I'd just buy one and give it to you, y'know because that's a nice thing to do and people like flowers and it was a nice one and hardly squished at all and so I bought it and this rose is for you. Here."

Steve pushed the flower towards Tony, who seemed to have graduated to slight gaping. He stared at the flower, stared at Steve, and then back at the flower.

"I checked it for thorns," Steve said, willing himself not to fidget. "There weren't any. The kids were real good about that."

Now Tony was staring at Steve again, expression completely unreadable until. Steve was getting even more nervous, could feel his palms starting to sweat when, ever so slightly, Tony's expression changed. It wasn't a big change, nothing dramatic or overt, but after a moment, Tony sucked in his cheeks just a tiny bit, eyes widening. Steve had only seen that look a few times before, mainly when Tony was talking to his robot friends in the lab, and he paused to remember whether or not the robots had been actually doing what they were told to do at the time (though, really, with terrible names like that Steve didn't really understand how the robots were able to differentiate the commands from the shouting, let alone figure out what was (sometimes) being asked at all). But then, Tony slid the hand still braced on Steve's up from his elbow to his hand, smoothing their fingers together before gently taking the flower.

"Thank you, Steve," Tony said, running the fingertips of his other hand over the petals in a gentle caress. "This... I mean, that's..." He cleared his throat. "I like it.."

Steve let out a breath he hadn't been fully aware he'd been holding. "Oh. Really? I mean, um, good. That's good. I'm... glad."

Tony gazed at Steve thoughtfully for a few minutes before smiling - actually smiling, a quiet thing that didn't even part his lips - and very gently put his other hand on Steve's still raised arm. "You eaten yet?" he asked. "Though I'm pretty sure you're probably still hungry either way."

Steve had eaten, actually, about an hour ago. "I could eat," he said anyway, too eager to bother checking with his stomach first (he assumed there wouldn't be an issue).

"Excellent," Tony said, and stepped forward to loop his arm through Steve's, tugging him down the hallway, past the windows that looked into the lab. "Well, I'm really not much of a cook," Tony began, interestingly not making direct eye contact anymore and instead focusing on the view of the lab as they walked, "because I tend to burn pretty much everything I come into contact with, but -"

Abruptly, Tony stopped, any semblance of a smile gone from his face. "Son of a bitch!" he bellowed, and Steve jerked around to try and catch a glimpse of what was distracting Tony.

The task wasn't difficult, not when one of the robots, the one Steve was pretty sure actually had been named Dummy, was spraying something full pelt with a fire extinguisher with a little less precision than could have been desired, coating everything in sight with wet, white foam.

"Goddamn it, I leave for one goddamn second and all these goddamn robots know how to do is make a goddamn -"

"Getting kind of offensive, Tony," Steve said, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.

Tony spun on his heel, already halfway through the doors again, and pointed the flower at him. "Oh, you think this is funny, huh? You gotta go find your own easy mac now, Captain Giggles. I have to go stop the building from imploding in on itself because I designed a crummy A.I. that should have been consigned to the sewage treatment plant about twenty years ago."

Steve shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets with a smile. "Maybe next time then."

Tony paused, sticking his head back out of the door again. "I'm going to assume by "next time" you're referring to our almost-food-thing, as opposed to the sewage treatment thing. Which is good, because I - Jesus Christ, Dummy!"

The laughter that hit Steve at the sight of Tony getting doused with the extinguisher was enough to double him over, the ensuing struggle for the appliance between man and bot doing nothing to help the laughing fits stop.

"Okay," Tony said through the still open door, now in possession of the extinguisher and a very large wrench with his flower absurdly tucked behind his ear, "this is war, Rogers. Prepare yourself. Now get lost. I have things to do, and your pectorals are stupidly distracting."

Any smart remark Steve might have made was cut off by his embarrassed (pleased) flush and coughing fit. He had no idea what Tony meant, but he figured it couldn't be too bad. At least, he assumed that for about 12 hours. With the heralding of the 12 hour mark, he started to realize that any kind of war with Tony would get very ridiculous very fast.

"Steve," Natasha said with wonder when she wandered into his bedroom at approximately the same time as Steve's revelation, "why is your bedroom covered in peonies?"

Steve didn't answer. He had plans to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! I got Tony in before chapter, like, twelve! Woohoo! :D Also, I tried posting this chapter before, but it got really weirdly screwed up. Let me know if anything is odd or out of place?


	3. Chocolate Says it Best Especially When Surrounded by Breakable Lab Equipment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now: MORE THOR.

Interestingly enough, the second stage of Steve's plan was accidentally inspired by Thor. 

The afternoon following the roomful of flowers event, Thor had dragged Steve out with him on one of their afternoon strolls. This time, Thor's intent was a local chocolate shop, one that the two of them had passed in their walks quite a few times. Apparently, Thor and Jane were going through a little bit of a rough patch, and Thor had read somewhere (Steve strongly suspected that Thor was the one who had been leaving issues of _Cosmo_ all over the tower lately, since it sure as heck wasn't anyone else) that chocolate was the ideal way to show one's love and true affection. 

Steve just went with it. 

They didn't say much at first as they walked down the sidewalk, hands in the pockets of their coats. Autumn was in full swing, and Steve had taken Thor out a few days ago to purchase a coat similar to Steve's own in preparation for the cooler weather. It was true that Thor generally acted immune to the elements, but Steve figured it was better safe than sorry, and Thor seemed to enjoy having a coat so similar to Steve's.

"You look like giant blond twins," Bruce had commented when they'd arrived back at the tower with their purchases. "Stay here. I have to go get a camera."

"Twins?!" Thor had boomed, absolutely beaming. "The truest kind of brothers! I accept this union! We shall officially be twin brothers!"

Steve still had no idea what that meant, or why Thor had proceeded to lift Clint - who had just entered the room and had no idea what was going on - up in a fireman's carry and toss him around the room directly following the proclamation (though Steve kind of figured that Thor had just felt like harassing Clint), but he didn't mind having a pretend brother. He knew that, though Thor still didn't bring up Loki very frequently, the big guy did miss having that kind of closeness. Steve had originally thought Thor was developing it with Clint, given the way the two had created overly intense gaming rituals and frequently threw one another around the tower, but Thor, like Natasha, sometimes looked as if he wanted to say something, to add something to a conversation, that he held himself back on only to eventually forget. Just from observing the way that Thor and Loki had spoken to one another, even through the anger and purported hatred (which Steve wasn't sure he truly bought), he could tell that once they had indeed been close, and imagined it must have been hard to no longer have someone to just quietly sit and talk with at the end of the day. So really, Steve didn't mind offering that quiet presence to Thor, and rather enjoyed being someone Thor spoke to on all kinds of matters. 

The only downside was that Thor had come to the decision that his new twin brother Steve was the best choice to discuss relationship woes with. That... hadn't exactly been Steve's intent. 

"Are you sure that Jane even likes chocolate, Thor?" Steve asked finally after they'd crossed a couple blocks. 

"Yes," Thor replied. "All women enjoy chocolate."

Steve was fairly proud of himself for not choking on his own spit. "Thor, we've talked about this. You can't just lump groups of people together because that makes them better fit your worldview."

Thor frowned. "But I am not devaluing women by saying such. Chocolate is a wonderful foodstuff. All women deserve wonderful things."

Steve sighed. "Well, okay, yes, I suppose, but that's not -"

"And I must show Jane that I value her," Thor said as they approached the shop through the midday pedestrian traffic, "because I do. Jane is brilliant and knows many things. But I... I fear I do not interest her enough."

Steve tried not to choke on a laugh. Thor was one of the most interesting people he knew - the guy was an alien god, for crying out loud. "I think you're being silly, Thor," he replied, "and I still say you should just stop trying to visit her when she's in her lab."

Thor frowned, reaching down to pat at a passing dog, oblivious to the way the owner's eyebrows climbed into her hairline at the sight of the giant blonde man tenderly stroking a Yorkie's back. "But you go and visit your true love's laboratory. Tony does not seem to mind."

Steve tugged Thor away from the increasingly enamored Yorkie and owner, smiling apologetically at them before propelling Thor further down the street. "Well, yeah, but I've only done that a couple times, and it's to leave him food. Generally he doesn't even really notice I come in. If I was looking for any kind of attention, I'd be... what's Clint's phrase?"

"Clint's phrase is vulgar," Thor replied darkly, folding his large arms over his chest and stretching the flannel shirt of the day (blue this time) to its extreme. "I ask you not to use it."

"Sorry," Steve replied. "I would be, um, extremely out of luck. They're both dedicated to their science, Thor. You can't go to Jane's lab and expect her to be able to turn off everything around her, you know?"

"But friend Bruce does," Thor responded, rapidly gaining petulance. "Whenever I come in to his lab to greet him on the new day, he ceases his activities and turns to pay me extremely close attention indeed. And we are not even courting!"

"Yeee-aaah," Steve replied, checking both ways up and down the street before crossing towards their intended chocolate destination. "But that's because you keep breaking things as soon as he's not looking."

"That was a singular occurrence!" Thor bellowed, not bothering to look both ways. Steve wasn't sure if that was because Thor trusted Steve, or because anyone would have to be blind to miss spotting Thor from blocks away.

"Thor, it's happened four times."

The other man huffed, sticking his hands into his pockets. "I do not mean to cause destruction. It is just that his equipment is so fine, and so little, and I do not always know my own strength when I want to pick things up to examine them."

Steve sighed, reaching out to pat Thor on the back. It was surprisingly easy for Thor to get a little maudlin. The first time that Thor had come to him, upset nearly to the point of tears, Steve had admittedly been kind of surprised. Some of his surprise could be fully attributed to the fact that it had been 3:00 pm on a Tuesday that it had happened, and Steve hadn't even seen Thor all day before he practically bashed in Steve's door and demanded to be consoled because "THIS IS WHAT TWIN BROTHERS DO". That had been about Jane too, some kind of argument to do with unwillingness to discuss shared living space and broken coffee mugs and the suggestion that maybe Thor should spend more time at Stark Towers and less in Jane's tiny little apartment. Steve could reasonably fill in the blanks, mainly because he actually _lived_ with Thor and knew the havoc he unintentionally caused every day, but still. The guy needed a break every now and then; he didn't _mean_ to send things flying.

"I know, Thor," Steve said, nudging the other man with his elbow. "Bruce knows that too; he's just careful. But if Jane doesn't pay attention to you when you visit her lab, it's probably because she's busy. She's got Darcy to make sure you don't knock anything over, and so she focuses on what she needs to be doing. I don't think that bringing her twelve dozen boxes of chocolate is going to make any difference."

"Two dozen, Steven," Thor corrected. "Twelve dozen would be folly."

"Right," Steve said, hiding his grin as he entered the shop behind Thor. "Look, why don't you just ask her out for dinner?"

Thor shrugged, looking around. "I do ask, and we do go out. But I want her to know that I appreciate her in her space of work as well, and that I wish to be part of that too."

"Thor," Steve sighed, "you can't be part of every aspect of her life. Do you want her to be part of every aspect of yours?"

"Yes," Thor answered without hesitation. 

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Even the parts that involve exploding purple rabbit monsters?"

Thor considered this.

While Thor was stroking his beard, Steve took the time to look around the shop. There were so many things to choose from that he felt a little overwhelmed even two minutes in. There were boxes of chocolates in all kinds of sizes and colors, and different flavors and mixes of sweets inside of each one. No wonder the spontaneity of dating was so noticeably absent from the modern world; it would take weeks of planning just to figure out what kind of chocolate to be spontaneous with!

"So," he said when he turned to find Thor still standing there, still stroking his beard, "what exactly do you plan on doing with your two dozen boxes?"

The question spurred Thor back into movement. "I will leave them scattered around the lab," he replied, inspecting the many cases of chocolate, "and I shall leave notes inside of them for her to find. That way, as she works around her lab she can be quietly reminded of my affections but, as you have advised, I will not actually be present to fully distract her or to accidentally break any further microscopes."

Well. It wasn't the worst idea in the world, Steve thought as he also examined the many myriad boxes of sweets. Leaving the boxes like little gifts to be found was kind of a sweet thing to do. 

He paused, hand hovering over a box of plain chocolates with buttercream centers. Originally Steve's intent had been to get back at Tony for piling his room full of peonies, but perhaps trying something sweet again wouldn't be such a bad idea. Tony seemed to like the flower before the whole fire extinguisher thing happened, so maybe...

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, you guys rock. Thanks so much for still reading this; I love our conversations in the comments!! Also - thanks for the patience considering I'm not doing every day updates. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Tony's next. Nobody panic; I just had to get Natasha in there first. :)


End file.
